The Day I Felt
by musomusi
Summary: One-shot depicting Quinn's personal battle and journey in accepting her love for Rachel Berry.


I don't remember the last time I felt happiness. All I felt was layer upon layer of gloom. With every slushy I threw, I only succeeded in making myself more empty, with every cold withering stare, I only felt my heart freeze, and with every scuttling freshman, I only tasted the prolonging bitterness. I, Quinn Fabray, had never felt anything but gloom and sadness. All my happiness had been chipped away, layer by layer, by each new expectation, each look of disappointment, every blow of one more candle, and each glass of whisky. Until slowly, there was no happiness left, just the empty shell which everyone else insisted was there. What everyone else saw, was happiness, power and beauty. I saw nothing.

Until one day, I saw anger. It ripped through me like fire rippling, lighting up a dark smoky night- hot, white, and brilliant. Never had I felt so raw. I remember searching my soul for the object of my anger, the object who elicited this feeling. And that's when I saw was her. The petite brunette clad in argyle from head to toe, brown hair glistening in the light as she walked confidently down the hall, one hand clutching the heinously bright pink handle of her pull along school bag, and the other clutching a folder of sheet music. Her bright smile blinded me, her row of pearly whites mocked me with their radiance. I could not understand how someone could be so happy, how one could be such an object of the feeling that I could not obtain. And so, grabbing the red slushy from a passerby, I threw the contents onto this object of happiness, and in doing so hopefully lessening its perfection. But this time, I did not feel empty. Instead, I only felt more anger.

The first time I heard her sing, my heart exploded with rage. Not only did she expel happiness, she also expelled perfection. And everyday, I would throw another slushy her way, hoping to feel my safety net that was the emptiness. But nothing worked. Rachel Berry was still perfect.

And so I committed myself to making her unhappy. It seemed so wrong that someone could be as happy as she. It seems the slushies weren't working, and so I turned to other forms of bullying. Man-hands, Treasure Trail, Tranny, but none of them seemed to do the job. At the end of the day, she was still as happy and perfect as she was the first day I met her. I did not understand what I was feeling, and so I became a monster.

The day I slept with Puck was the return of my emptiness. I felt nothing and I felt I was whole once more. But after my pampered hands found the rough gravel of the road for the first time after being thrown out, I only felt sadness. I refused to feel self pity and I loathed anyone who offered it to me. She came to visit me one day whilst I was at Puck's house. Wordlessly, she handed me an envelope, turned on her heels and left. Inside the envelope was a cheque for five thousand dollars with a note that said:

_Dear Quinn_

_This is from my saving's account. Don't worry about anything and good luck. You deserve so much more. Do not try to give this back._

_Best Wishes_

_Rachel Barbra Berry_

My eyes clouded with tears as the anger instilled in me emerged once again from deep within. How dare she lie to me? I don't deserve anything. But she had again elicited another new feeling. Something I couldn't describe. In my daze of confusion I wiped away my tears. I kept the cheque.

Life went on. I gave birth, and I gave it away. My mother took me back. I worked hard at school, got a full scholarship to Yale and never looked back. I don't know where she went, and I told myself I didn't care. It was as if she had disappeared from my life.

Until one day, I was in New York City and I saw her name on a billboard. 'Spring Awakening, starring Rachel Berry' glared back at me. Even in 2D, she was still as perfect and happy as ever, eyes bright, smile wide. At eight pm, I was outside her stage door. Back then I told myself that it wasn't my choice, that my anger had lead me there. The feeling that I felt when I saw her again ignited an unknown fire within me. She was there, happy as ever, eyes crinkling as she smiled for her adoring fans, teeth sparkling against the artificial light, brow creasing as she signs autograph after autograph. The fans are all grinning brightly, screaming, some are even crying. But I didn't. I stand there watching her. I stood there for an hour, watching her sign the last autograph of the night, watching her brush her hair out of her eyes, as she straightens up, kisses her co-star on the cheek and flexes her wrist. I'm still watching her as she looks at me, her eyes widening as she walks over. 'Quinn?' she whispers as if unwilling to believe herself. She walks closer, the fire inside me growing stronger. I don't say anything, but I nod, staring into her eyes. I'm surprised, because this time I don't feel anger, and I don't feel sadness.

That night, I talk with her until the early hours of the morning, until I finally walk her back to her apartment. As her lips capture mine in the ominous moonlight, I finally understand. I see myriads of colour, and all I can feel are those soft lips on mine, gently caressing away every fear, every layer of sadness, every trace of anger. Until all I'm left with, is Love.

And then today, as I stand at the altar, clad in white, with my beautiful fiancé walking down the aisle towards me, I am also reacquainted with a childhood friend. Because as I say 'I do' and kiss my wife for the first time, that's when I know. I am happy.


End file.
